Anne Clinard Barnhill Anne Clinard Barnhill grew up in West Virginia and graduated from Alderson-Broaddus College in Philippi. Her debut novel, At the Mercy of the Queen, was published by St. Martin’s Press in 2012. Her second novel, Queen Elizabeth’s Daughter, is forthcoming in 2014. She is working on a third and as-yet-untitled novel, set in West Virginia.… Read More Essays on Childhood: “Staying” | by Anne Clinard Barnhill
Following is a spontaneous first draft intro for my next creative nonficition packet submission. It will get better. But one of my favorite parts about pursuing my MFA is to just sit down and let it out. I am leaving West Virginia. It is not the first time, but it will be the last time.… Read More The Long Road to the Last Goodbye
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. – Ecclesiastes… Read More To Everything, Turn.
His eyes are pale like old glass, flecked with bits of sandy spots, and often they appear lonesome. His eyes are the eyes of an Appalachian descendent of Polish immigrants. His eyes carry the weight of more than his own years. Some evenings his eyes seem to carry the weight of all of the occupations,… Read More His Eyes: Some Thoughts of My Father
I keep thinking about fraility. Frail Things They are gentle, the frail things that once seemed unbreakable and strong. You start a family, you devote, and the thing stands. In Truth all things are frail, and break when we are not looking. Some give their whole lives that you may have a strong thing. See… Read More Frail Things
When I was in high school, my grandmother developed dementia. Some people called it hardening of the arteries, some called it Alzheimer’s disease, and some called it senility. The name really did not matter; it was the devastating effects that were memorable. We often remarked how merciful it was that Grandma did not know what… Read More Alzheimer’s Strikes by Laura J. Little
It’s not until I’m on 95, driving out to visit my dad, that I realize what to do with the fur hat tied by ropes to a cinder block in the trunk of my car, a “brain anchor” used as a prop by a friend in a surrealism creative writing class. My father not only… Read More The Brain Anchor by Valley Haggard